Snippets of a Different Kind
by ShatteredRhapsody
Summary: Certain evens that may or may not have been mentioned during the primary story A Different Kind of Hobbit. Chapters don't have any order, they're just posted as the ideas come.
1. Chapter 1

Hobbit weddings tended to be on the simple side; the families of both bride and groom were present, as well as the rest of the Shire. This particular wedding, however, was doomed to be far from complicated. From seating arrangements carefully planned to avoid arguments to distant aunts nearly engaging in a screaming match about who cooked what better. Ah, yes, only one wedding could spark this much ire amongst the Shirefolk.

Bungo Baggins was almost a nervous wreck as he straightened his waist coat for the umpteenth time. He was sure if his nerves could handle much more of this. Not after his father placed both hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye to say:

"You could always run. No one would judge a Baggins running away from a Took."

He nearly died on the spot! While it was true that no one would judge him, he knew one person that would judge him. And knowing how heartbroken she'd be if he left her with no explanation...why, it just _wasn't done!_

Taking a quick peek out of the groom's tent, he fought the urge to groan as he saw the Old Took himself already halfway to roaring drunk. He knew it was only halfway since the old hobbit was sitting on the barrel instead of under it where the ale could pour itself down his throat. Bungo had seen it once. The results had been awful.

Bungo took a deep breath and kept telling himself that this was what he wanted. He wanted to wed The Belladonna Took because she was different. She embraced her oddness and ever since they were babes, she had always tried to get him to do the same. At least according to his mother anyway; something about pushing Bungo face first in the mud. He loved her dearly despite everything the other Shirefolk warned him about. He had even beaten the Old Took in a heated game of conkers and drank the old man under the table. Quite a risk to his health at the time, but Belladonna was worth it.

...

Bungo was not having second thoughts. Rather, he had an inkling that the wedding reception should end right now. Who cared if it only just started, it had to end right now. He thought he was brave for not reacting to the Old Took sobbing uncontrollably as he gave his daughter away to be wed or when the wizard who held the ceremony grew twice his height and threatened him an early grave should he ever hurt Belladonna.

No, his inkling came from that of a she-dwarf riding backwards on a pony.

His wife had kissed him on the cheek and raced away to greet the dwarf with a smile before laughing uproariously. Sweet Yavanna, this was The Svala Swifthammer that adventured with The Belladonna Took. Bungo desperately hoped that his courage had not yet left him!

"Bungo, my beloved! This," she grabbed the dwarf who was stumbling a bit and had a bit of a flush to her face, "is my sworn-sister! Svala, this is my dear Bungo!"

He watched as the dwarf straightened her shoulders and stood at her full height-just an inch taller than himself he noted-before stepping forward to embrace him in a rib crunching hug. She said something in what had to be in her native tongue, but it sent terrible chills down his spine nonetheless. She stepped back to let him breathe and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Bella, I like this lad. Now show me to the ale!"

"Svala...you're not already drunk are you?"

"Not yet I'm not. Ah! Is that your father? Oh, he and I must have a rematch," Svala muttered as she stumbled on over to the Old Took himself. "I say, old man, we need to be reacquainted!"

"I'll get the towels," his beloved Belladonna sighed before flashing him one of her best smiles. "All will be well, Bungo. You'll see."

Ah, yes. It would be decades before the Shire ever forgot the sight of the Old Took seated high above on the branches of the Party Tree, a she-dwarf at his side laughing as they pelted helpless onlookers with what would have been souvenirs from the wedding. How they managed to bring a barrel of ale up there with them would forever be questioned by those present.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: A dwarfling Svala has some words with the men in her life.**

"I'm goin' with you!"

Svoren could only sigh in exasperation as his sister tugged on his pant leg to get his attention. Whoever thought it would be a good idea to tell a twelve year old of an upcoming battle was an idiot. There was no way in hell he was going to let his baby sister get near an orc.

Although sometimes he was tempted to let her try. She was being particularly violent today; she even bit Dwalin when he tried to pick her up.

"Svala, you know you can't. You're too young."

"Aye, 'n far too little!" Dwalin agreed with his long time friend as he helped saddle their ponies. They only had an hour before the army left for Moria; they had no time to argue with a dwarfling.

"Am not little! I can lif' a axe just like you! Svoren showed me how!" Svala's pudgy face was glistening with her tears of frustration. She really didn't want to go with them to battle, she knew that much. She just wanted them to stay longer.

"Svala, you're not going," came a voice from behind her.

"Papa!"

Sveorn Swifthammer hefted his mighty hammer over his shoulder and walked over to the small gathering of his kin. He was an imposing figure, much like his kin that were decked in full battle regalia. While he may have been one of the masters when it came to crafting magnificent pieces, he also had the reputation of being as fierce as a bear. After Erebor was lost to them, he took up arms and became one of Thror's best fighters.

"M-Master Sveorn!" Dwalin stuttered nervously.

"Father," Svoren nodded in greeting and elbowed his best friend in the gut. "Stop stuttering. He's not that impressive."

Smirking at how well his reputation still proceeded him, he gave Dwalin his hammer to hold. "Don't drop tha, boy." He almost laughed at how the younger dwarf struggled under the weight of the war hammer.

"Papa! Up!"

His little Svala was as pushy as her mother. Sighing, he hefted his little girl up into his arms for a hug. Despite all the fuss she was making, he knew she just wanted to be comforted that her brother and father would be okay. It was something he wouldn't be able to promise her.

"Papa, don' go."

"M'sorry Little One. I have to. And so does your brother and his friend." He could feel her tears soaking the fabric of his tunic, could hear them as the little drops pelted his armor.

Svala sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve before raising her head to meet her father's eyes. Her eyes were still spilling tears, but her gaze was hard as if she accepted that she had to understand. Sveorn felt his chest swell with pride; the look she gave him rivaled that of her mother's when she would set her heart on something. His little dwarfling moved her arms out of his hold and spread them wide.

"Svoren! Dwalin! Hug!"

Now, let it be known that dwarrows were _not_ of the touchy-feely, we-bond-by-physical-contact type. But the look in Svala's eyes gave no room for protest, and even Dwalin didn't understand why the four of them were suddenly in a bone-crushing group hug. Sweet Mahal, he hoped no one was watching.

"You come back safe!" Svala barked the order at them all, her tone so similar to her father's that they had to laugh. "S'not funny!" She snapped at them and their chuckles ceased as her sobs began anew. "Y-You come back h-home. And b-brother and Dwalin will p-play with me."

"Aye, little one. We'll be coming home."


	3. Chapter 3

"Belladonna Took, you git yer arse out here! We got monsters to kill!"

Svala yelled at the round door from outside on her pony. On her way to the Shire, she had heard of evil creatures and the like stalking around the borders of Lothlorien. She figured the Golden Wood would be a nice treat for her sister-kin as the perfect wedding gift.

"Belladonna!" She hollered once more, "I'll start singing drinking songs! The kind we learned in Rohan! Oh, for the love of-" Svala dismounted her pony and stomped her way up the front door of Bag End. She had just raised her fist to start knocking when the door swung open and practically rocked on its hinges. There stood her dear Belladonna, who looked to be angrier than an elf dunked in mud.

"Svala, I told you in my letter that I can't go on any more adventures!" She spat before a wave of nausea hit her and she bolted back into the house to be violently sick in the bathroom. When Belladonna came back to herself, she was groaning against the toilet, and that someone was holding her hair back for her.

"Bella, what's wrong?"

Bella blindly reached out for the jar of cleansing leaves for her mouth. She needed to think carefully before she told her dear friend the real reason she could no longer go.

"Bella...I know how your kin can eat, but have you been having those extra meals?"

Belladonna groaned and briefly considered drowning herself to get out of her current predicament. Dwarrows were so damn dense sometimes.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: For foxieloxie**

Belladonna and Bungo were trying to clean up their smial in preparation for the guests they were expecting. As they puttered about their home, little Bilbo waddled after them, a thumb in his mouth while he clutched a tattered blanket in his other hand.

"Mama, why are we cleaning?"

"Because Mama's friends are coming for a visit."

"Why are they visiting?"

"Because they want to come see you, Sweetling."

"Oh."

Bungo was keeping a careful eye on his son while he and his wife cooked dinner. Bilbo's Took side had come out to play today, and it was feeling particularly rebellious.

"Why are oranges called oranges?"

"Because they _are_ orange, my son."

"Why are carrots called carrots if they're orange too?"

"I..." Bungo paused, unsure of why certain fruits and vegetables were called what they were.

"Why aren't pumpkins called oranges?"

"...ah, go see if your mother needs help setting the table."

"Okay."

...

The questions only got worse from then on.

"Why is the oven hot?"

"Why do we have to wait to eat?"

"Mama, why is Papa shaking his head?"

"Papa, why won't Mama talk to me?"

"Why-"

The knock at the door saved Belladonna and Bungo from answering another question.

"Ah, Gandalf! Svala!" If Belladonna's tone was just a hint crazed, the two on the other side of the door did not mention it. "Please, come in. Dinner is on the table and Bilbo has been waiting to see you!"

Bungo wiped his brow with a handkerchief in relief. Maybe now Bilbo could ask the other two his endless questions about everything.

Once they sat down and began eating, Svala happily told them of her travels Gondor where she was asked to lend her skill in stone carving. She told them how the city itself was carved from the cliff, its color a brilliant white that shines when the sun's rays hit it. After Gondor, she had met up with Gandalf in Rohan. She was welcomed by the King and Queen there, and was more than happy to aid them in providing sturdy horseshoes for their horses.

The longer they talked, the longer Bilbo stayed quiet. Belladonna was just grateful for the lack of interruptions during her conversation with her friends. Although her son's silence only made her wary; no Took every stayed quiet for long.

"Bilbo, it's bath time!" Bung called from the bathroom while his wife and guests settled in the sitting room.

"No!"

"Bilbo, you love playing with the bubbles-"

"No!"

"Bilbo Baggins!" Bungo chased after his son before securing the squirming little fauntling in his arms to carry him into the tub.

"No, no, no, no!"

There's splashing sounds then the sound of something wet hitting the floor, followed by wet puttering feet dashing across the hardwood floor. Belladonna, Gandalf, and Svala could only stare as naked, wet, and sudsy Bilbo rocketed right past them. An irate and soaked Bungo right behind him.

The three of them blinked very slowly before erupting in gales of laughter.

"Bilbo!"

_"No!"_


End file.
